**Shadows of the Past and a New Path**
I came home from work to our flat in Pinebridge, drained from the day. As I turned the key and pushed the door open, I froze. There, neatly placed beside my shoes and my husband’s trainers, sat a pair of unfamiliar boots—elegant, with a slight heel. I recognised them at once: they belonged to my sister-in-law, Victoria. *Why is she here? James didn’t say she was visiting.* Unease prickled under my skin. I almost called out for him, but instinct whispered: *wait*. Instead, I stayed silent, listening to the voices drifting from the living room. What I heard made my heart twist in dread.
“Emma, is James away on business again?” Tom, my colleague, caught up with me in the office car park. “Fancy grabbing a coffee? We could finally catch up properly—it’s always just a quick hello these days.”
“Sorry, Tom. Not today,” I forced a smile. “James promised to come home early so we could pick out kitchen furniture. We still haven’t finished settling in after the renovation. And, for the record, he hasn’t been on any business trips lately.”
“And he’s always home on time?” Tom’s tone held a hint of irony.
“Not always,” I admitted with a sigh. “Money’s tight right now, so he works late. Once we’ve furnished the flat, maybe things will ease up.”
“Right,” he smirked, wished me a good evening, and walked away.
The bus came quickly for once, sparing me the usual wait. I took a seat by the window, lost in thought. Years ago, I nearly married Tom. We’d split over some silly row—now, I couldn’t even remember why. Then James came along, and I’d rushed into marriage partly to prove to Tom that I’d moved on. *Look, I’m not alone—you’ll regret this.* That’s what I’d thought back then.
Tom had tried to reconcile, begging for another chance, swearing he’d make me happy. But I’d been too caught up with James. I told myself I’d never loved Tom, that it was all a mistake. Over time, I almost forgot about him—until he transferred to our branch last month. He acted like it was a coincidence, but I suspected he’d arranged it after learning where I worked. Part of me was flattered he was still single, that he still looked at me the same way. Deep down, I wanted him to be happy—but somewhere, a quiet jealousy lingered for his future wife. Tom had always been a hopeless romantic.
James was a good husband, but lately, he’d been disappearing into work. He said it was for our future, so we’d never want for anything. But there was little time left for *us*. We lived in a flat owned by his sister, Victoria, who’d kindly offered it while her children were young. She and her husband never struggled financially—she didn’t work, and they let out properties as investments for their kids. James and I had renovated the place, picking every detail, and now we were slowly furnishing it. But sometimes I regretted not just renting a furnished flat. The renovation had cost a fortune—enough to cover years of rent or a mortgage deposit. Still, James had leapt at the chance when Victoria made the offer.
I stepped off the bus, hurrying home as the air thickened with the scent of rain. Thoughts tangled in my head, refusing to settle. How long had it been since we moved in? A year? Eighteen months? Time blurred, but the nagging feeling that this wasn’t *home* never left. We fixed it up, made it ours, yet it always felt temporary, as if true happiness was still ahead.
At the building, I realised I was walking slower, almost reluctant to go inside. The front door creaked, letting me into the dim stairwell. Climbing to the third floor, unease coiled tighter in my chest.
Inside, I stopped dead. Beside my shoes and James’ trainers sat Victoria’s boots—expensive, polished. *Why is she here?* I couldn’t recall James mentioning her visit.
I nearly called out, but something held me back. *Don’t rush.* I stayed quiet, straining to hear the conversation in the living room.
“We were planning a holiday,” Victoria was saying. “But my husband can’t take the time off, so I thought we’d give you the tickets. On one condition: you go with Sophie, not Emma.”
My breath hitched. *Sophie?* James had mentioned that name once, casually, when he told me Victoria had tried to set them up. Back then, I’d brushed it off—but now, my stomach dropped.
“Victoria, I don’t want Sophie,” James replied irritably. “How many times? I’m with Emma. Why do you keep bringing this up?”
I exhaled, relieved. Same old Victoria, meddling as always. I almost stepped forward—until she spoke again.
“Who are you trying to fool?” Her voice sharpened. “I remember how crazy you were about Sophie. You were going to *marry* her before you stormed off over nothing. Stop pretending—Emma’s not right for you. Sophie’s different.”
My knees locked. *He loved her? Wanted to marry her?* He’d sworn Sophie meant nothing. I stared at the floor, gripping myself, but Victoria’s words burned.
“So what?” James’ tone was defensive now, unsure. “That’s all in the past. Yeah, it happened, but it’s over. I love Emma.”
“You *love* her?” Victoria scoffed. “Please. We both know you married Emma to make Sophie jealous after she left you for someone else. Then she came crawling back, begging for another chance, and you *still* went through with the wedding out of spite.”
The floor tilted beneath me. *Out of spite?* Had our marriage just been revenge? I remembered how quickly I’d wed James after splitting with Tom—partly to prove a point. But had his motives been the same? I’d loved James with everything, refused even coffees with Tom—while he…? I held my breath, waiting.
“It’s done,” James said quietly. “I’m married. I’ve got responsibilities.”
“Responsibilities?” Victoria snorted. “No kids, thank God. And don’t forget where you live. With Emma, you’ll always be scrambling for a place. Sophie’s parents just gave her a *huge* flat—brand new, spacious. And she still loves you, waiting for you to come to your senses.”
I leaned against the wall, tears pricking my eyes. How could Victoria say these things? But worse was James’ silence. I braced myself for his answer, terrified of the truth.
“Enough,” he said finally—but his voice lacked conviction. “A home’s just a home. We’ll find our own place eventually.”
“You’re just scared of change,” Victoria pressed. “Sophie was always better for you. Resentment’s eating you alive, but it’s not too late. With her, you’d have stability, a future—everything you deserve. Admit it: you’ll never be happy with Emma.”
She lowered her voice. “And let’s be honest—I can’t keep this flat open for you forever. My plans are changing. You’ll have to leave soon.”
“Does Sophie know what you’re doing?” James asked suddenly.
“Of course,” Victoria said. “This was *her* idea—the holiday tickets, everything. She’s sure you still love her.”
Silence. My head spun. *Why isn’t he denying it?*
“What do I tell Emma?” he murmured.
“Say you’re helping me at the cottage,” Victoria said breezily. “We’re renovating, and you’re lending a hand. Then just go to the coast with Sophie. Simple.”
I couldn’t listen anymore. Quietly, I slipped out and wandered blindly, not caring where I went.
I ended up in a cosy café in the village centre. Soft music played, rain pattered against the windows. I ordered a cinnamon latte and stared at my reflection in the dark glass, Victoria’s words echoing. How could James have hidden this? How could our marriage be built on a lie? Betrayal clawed at me, but worse was the humiliation. I’d thought he’d chosen me because he *loved* me.
Night fell. My latte went cold. James hadn’t even called. *Probably packing for his trip with Sophie*, I thought bitterly. My phone was dead.
With a heavy sigh, I braced myself to go home. Our marriage was over—I knew it. I rehearsed the words in my head, steeling myself for the inevitable.
Inside the flat, an eerie quiet greeted me. No TV, no sounds from the kitchen. Suitcases stood in the living room. James was packing his things. *It’s happening. He’s leaving.*
“What are you doing?” My voice sounded hollow.
“Emma,” he said, looking up. “We’re moving out. I’ve found us a place—temporary, but ours. We’ll figure out a mortgage later.”He took my hand and squeezed it, promising that no matter where we went, we’d finally be building our future together—just us.
